Jessie Pope

Play The Game Poem by Jessie Pope

Twenty-Two stalwarts in stripes and shorts Kicking a ball along, Set in a square of leather-lunged sports Twenty-two thousand strong, Some of them shabby, some of them spruce, Savagely clamorous all, Hurling endearments, advice or abuse, At the muscular boys on the ball.

Stark and stiff 'neath a stranger's sky A few hundred miles away, War-worn, khaki-clad figures lie, Their faces rigid and grey Stagger and drop where the bullets swarm, Where the shrapnel is bursting loud, Die, to keep England safe and warm For a vigorous football crowd !

Football's a sport, and a rare sport too, Don't make it a source of shame. To-day there are worthier things to do. Englishmen, play the game! A truce to the League, a truce to the Cup, Get to work with a gun, When our country's at war we must all back up It's the only thing to be done!